


In The Dark Of The Night

by Felurian



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Human K-2SO, M/M, Multi, Politics, Prince Cassian, Sith AU, Sith Jyn, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10146281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felurian/pseuds/Felurian
Summary: When the galactic war with the Empire threatens to take away his planet’s independence, prince Cassian Andor, pressured by his advisors, decides to cut a deal with the Sith. From now on, Fest becomes home to the army gathered by Darth Pran, while through the palace’s corridors walk two of his most trusted people: commander of his armed forces, Bodhi Rook, and his apprentice, Jyn Erso, whose one of the tasks is to guard Cassian with her life.Neither Jyn nor Cassian realize that they might turn out to be the most important pawns in the game that is the galactic war.Or, the Sith/Royalty AU no one asked for, with unnecessarily complicated political situation.





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but something clearly went wrong, oops. Kay is totally human because hey, we're already screwing the canon so much, I might as well just do it!

The council room is deserted by now, all of the chairs empty, untouched glasses left on the table. Cassian sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes, trying to blink away the fatigue that has been plaguing him for days.

 

(Weeks, months even, if he’s to be honest. But leaders don’t get to feel weary. Most certainly not in the time of war).

 

The meeting didn’t go in the way he had hoped to but then again, not many of them do work out like he’d want them to, not anymore. He wishes the best for Fest and its people — always had — but the methods that his Councilors want to use to achieve it aren’t the ones he’d chose. Cassian isn’t below fighting dirty if it means securing freedom for his planet, Force know he’s done things he’s not proud of to do so in the past, but there are lines even he won’t cross.

 

Now, he doesn’t have much of a choice, it seems.

 

The heavy door to council chamber swing open. Cassian glances around his shoulder and acknowledges Kay, his most trusted advisor and one of his few friends, with a sharp nod.

 

“You look terrible,” the tall man comments, stepping next to him. Cassian lets out a snort, causing Kay to glare at him.

 

“I met Councilor Mothma on my way,” he says. “I’ve heard of the decision.” His voice is deprived of any emotion, as usual, though his eyes are searching for any reaction on Cassian’s face.

 

“Then you know it’s a kriffing stupid decision,” he growls, arms crossed over his chest. He knows he probably looks and sounds ridiculous now — whining like a petulant child for his parents disagreeing with him — but he can’t find himself to care much about proper etiquette.

 

“I may not personally think it’s a good decision morally-wise but it is our only choice now, Cassian. While I wouldn’t vote for it, I can see while all of the councilors did,” Kay says, much to his dismay. “We’ve been backed into the corner by the Alignment and we need all the resources we can gather to fight them off.”

 

Cassian scoffs, running a hand through his already dishvelled hair. The words from his friend’s mouth are the same words he’s heard from the Council for past few weeks.

 

“Don’t you think I know it? But this is blasted Sith we’re talking about, not a hired mercenary group.” For a moment, Kay stays silent, mulling over his words.

 

“As your friend,” he finally says, “I agree with you. But as your advisor I can tell you that this alliance is your only hope in making sure that Fest stays independent. I can not stress enough how dire our situation has become."

 

Cassian doesn’t respond, his fists clenching at his sides. He knows that. For a long time, he knew that his resources were running short, his planet’s strength slowly crumbling under the reign of the Empire. But making a contract with the Sith... It feels like selling his soul to the power which might he can’t be sure of.

 

If that’s what it takes to save Fest, however, he will do it. Force knows he’d do anything.

 

“How long till they arrive?” Kay breaks the silence.

 

Cassian grimaces, glancing sideways at his friend.

 

“Two standard weeks."

 

Two weeks until he greets the most despicable creature and their army on his doorstep.

 

* * *

 

 

He finds it hard to fall asleep that night, trashing around in the sheets, his mind clouded. Cassian keeps going back to the Council meeting, to the words spoken into the cold air of the chamber, to the arguments raised by his advisors and finally, to the decisions that were made. There’s no doubt left that if Fest is to stay independent, involving the Sith and their army is the only choice left — yet he can’t help thinking that somehow, it’s wrong, in more ways than one.

 

Cassian sits up, rubbing his eyes. Kay will certainly comment on his gradually worse look in the morning, but that’s the least of his worries now.

 

He walks towards the window overlooking the city. There aren’t many lights on, most of the buildings and streets covered in darkness, leaving a perfect illusion of peace. The capital is one of the few regions not suffering directly from the war that keeps destroying the galaxy, though with every passing week even the town-people become more stressed, more often that not leaving for places they believe to be safe — given they can afford it, of course.

 

If he’s to be honest, Cassian doesn’t believe there’s truly a place out there that isn’t in the claws of the Empire by now, but he can’t blame his people for trying.

 

Sadly, the same way of thinking doesn’t work for him when it comes to forming an alliance with the Sith. Cassian knows he’s not the only leader that has done it in order to protect his planet, but it’s not a comforting thought.

 

Most of all, he’s afraid to see the faces of his guardians when they return from Alderaan, only to learn that he’d finally broken under the pressure of his Councilors and advivors, inviting the Sith to the palace. Though he has a feeling Chirrut might already know, even if he hasn’t sent them a message yet — the older man has always had a strange connection with the Force, for as long as Cassian can remember. Long before Chirrut and his husband were proclaimed his guardians after the rest of his family has perished.

 

He hopes they’re gonna understand why he made this choice and forgive him.

 

Cassian knows he won’t.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s snowing on the day of their arrival. Somehow, he finds that comforting, as he steps into the courtyard to meet his guests, midnight blue cape clasped on his shoulders. Cassian realizes it’s a silly thing to find relief in, but he’s almost happy to feel the snowflakes melt on his skin, sign of a winter that has come to soon, almost as if the planet itself isn’t happy to see the Sith lay their feet in the capital either. That’s the kind of childish way of thinking that his mother would always chastise him for, but she’s not here to do that anymore.

 

None of his family is.

 

Though he might have hoped for some trouble to occur, delaying the aproach of the Sith, it seems like everything went according to plan, as a Star Commuter appears in his line of sight, coming to halt right in front of the courtyard. He glances sideways, where General Draven and Councilor Mothma stand, neutral expressions on their faces. Few steps behind them, however, Kay looks anything but welcoming, his dark brows furrowed over stormy eyes.

 

At least he’s not alone in the displeasure for this situation; not that he can afford the luxury of showing it.

 

Only three persons exit the shuttle, escorted by his own guards — he tries not to be surprised by the fact that his guests agreed for their own soldiers to remain on the ships orbiting the planet. Then again, from what he’s heard, even the most skilled warriors are no match for the Sith if they’re not Force-sensitive.

 

Two of the incomers are wearing dark cloaks, their faces hidden by hoods — Cassian can’t help but think it’s completely unnecessary. The third person — a young man with dark eyes and black hair, put up in an intricate braid — is dressed in more casual fashion, in an uniform of a kind.

 

The taller figure in the hood steps forward and Cassian doesn’t miss the glint of a prosthetic leg. He walks towards him, slowly being able to see features that were hidden earlier. Before him stands an older man, whose dark skin is covered in scars, though it’s his eyes that strike him the most — so dark that they appear to be black, shining dangerously as he moves his gaze over Cassian.

 

“Darth Pran, I assume,” he speaks with the smallest bow of his head. The man’s lips curl in something akin to a smile.

 

“That would be right.” His voice is deep and hoarse. “We’re thankful for the invitation, Your Highness.”

 

“As we are grateful to have you in the city,” Cassian replies pleasantly, even as he can feel his skin crawling underneath his formal suit. “Please, do come inside, I’m afraid the winter has decided to arrive early here this year.”

 

Next to him, Councilor Mothma is smiling warmly at their guests, ready to welcome them in the palace, almost as if they’re not the terror of the galaxy.

 

“That would be the best, thank you,” the Sith says, his companions still remaining few steps behind him. Cassian doesn’t bother smiling.

 

“Follow me, please.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Leading the Sith inside the palace which has belonged to his family for generations feels wrong. Cassian tenses as they step through the main door, wondering if his parents can see him now — he hopes not, more for their sake than his own.

 

He walks into the waiting the chamber, where few of the servants already await them with refreshments. Cassian shakes off his cape, draping it over a chair and turns around to his guests. The Sith Lord — Darth Pran — has pulled down only his hood, black cloak remaining securedly on his shoulders, making him an intimidating figure. His mysterious companion, however, shrugs the garment off and Cassian is surprised to see a young woman standing next to Pran. She can’t be much older than twenty and though her posture can’t be described as imposing, her eyes, lined with black kohl, are cold and shrewd, her gaze sharp enough to make him feel like it’s penetrating his skull. Cassian feels a shiver run down his spine despite the warmth of the chamber.

 

Pran must notice him watching the girl, because he says, “Allow me to introduce my companions, Your Highness.”

 

Upon his words, both of them step forward. While the man seems courteous enough, a polite smile on his lips, the woman’s expression remains clouded, her brows furrowed.

 

“This is Commander Rook,” Pran motions towards the man who bows his head. “He’ll be in charge of our forces, once they’re commisioned on the planet.”

 

“It’s an honour, Your Highness,” Commander Rook speaks. Cassian only nods — he may appear kind and harmless, but he still works for the Sith.

 

“And this is my protege.” There’s a hint of pride in the Sith Lord’s voice as he looks at the young woman. “Jyn Erso. She will be monitoring all of the operations undertaken by Commander Rook, as well as overseeing your army’s movements. It will be also in her duty to protect you.”

 

She bares her teeth at Cassian in what he supposes to be a smile, though it reminds him more of the expression made by a wild animal in its ferocity. He doesn’t miss the way her hand wanders nonchalantly towards the weapons dangling from the utility belt on her hips either.

 

Miss Erso isn’t what he’d expect his bodyguard to be, but she certainly fits well in the role of a Sith Lord’s apprentice.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Cassian finally says, hoping they can’t see through his words. He motions towards his companions. “I’d like to introduce you to Councilor Mothma and General Draven, who will answer any of your inquiries and fill in gaps that haven't been included in the reports you’ve received. This is Kay Esso, my advisor, who’s also there to offer help, shall you need it.”

 

He doesn’t bother looking at Kay, knowing that the expression on his face won’t be anything less than open distaste.

 

“There will be a Council meeting held at noon, where we shall discuss everything,” Cassian continues, the necessity to be polite and sweet-talk his guests almost choking him up. “Meanwhile, my servants will lead you to assigned chambers. I assume you’d like to take a moment to refresh after the journey.”

 

To his surprise, it’s commander Rook who replies, “That is most considerate of you, thank you.”

 

Well, at least one of them seems nice enough.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s no longer than half a standard hour after Cassian has retreated to his quarters, that he hears a ruckus outside of his rooms. He’s hoped for few moments of peace before the Council meeting, his strength already wavering after having to welcome the Sith in his home. _It was necessary,_ Cassian keeps telling himself, as he looks into his tired reflection in the mirror.

 

The sounds on the other side of the doors grow louder — he can now make out few indistinct voices arguing over something, though he can’t be sure what exactly. He decides it’s something that might require his intervention and so, Cassian straightens himself up and leaves his room.

 

He’s not quite prepared for the sight that welcomes him. First, he notices a distressed servant, who looks like she might burst into tears any moment; then, he looks at three of his guards, all appearing to be quite uneasy, one of them with his hand on a blaster; lastly, and most importantly, his gaze lands at the woman who seems to be in the center of this turmoil.

 

Somehow, he’s not even surprised that it’s Jyn Erso.

 

“What’s happening here?” Cassian asks, causing everyone to look at him.

 

Both the servant and one of the guards start talking at the same time, making their answers completely incoherent, but the Sith Lord’s apprentice cuts them off — he notes they both pale from fear the moment she starts speaking.

 

“There’s been a change in accomodation, nothing else,” she says calmly and he realizes it’s the first time that he’s heard her voice. It’s not as sharp as her gaze, but still not sympathetic.

 

Cassian suppresses a sigh.

 

“Were the assigned chambers not to your liking?”

 

“I’m sure they were perfect,” Jyn replies, a mischevious glint in her eyes, “but I didn’t have a chance to visit them.”

 

“Your Highness,” a guard adresses Cassian before he has a chance to ask what’s the meaning of her words. “We’ve escorted miss Erso to her chambers but she insisted to be given other rooms in a closer proximity to yours—”

 

“Is that so?” He asks, looking directly at her. She shrugs nonchalantly and steps forward, the lightsabers hooked to her belt dangling with motion. The guards at his sides tense.

 

“I’m supposed to guard you,” Jyn replies. “Can’t do that well from the other side of the palace, _Your Highness_.” Somehow, she manages to make his title sound more mocking than any other time he’s heard in his life.

 

Cassian holds down her gaze. The idea of having a Sith — apprentice or no — live in rooms right next to his makes shivers run down his body. He has to admit that she makes a right point, though, one that has been clearly over-looked by some of his advisors.

 

“Your Highness, I truly don’t think that it’s—”

 

He holds up his hand, making the guard trail off. In front of him, Jyn Erso smirks.

 

“Very well. Please, make sure that the chambers are prepared for miss Erso.”

 

With that, he turns around and walks back to his room, slamming the doors behind him.


	2. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to mention, in case it wasn't clear from the previous chapter, that Darth Pran is 100% Saw Gerrera.

Cassian grows accustomed to the constant presence of Darth Pran’s most trusted warriors in his palace alarmingly quickly. Truth to be told, there’s not much to become annoyed with, besides Jyn Erso constantly looming over his shoulder — though he has to admit, it’s admirable how she manages to watch him from the shadows most of the time, glued to his side only when it’s necessary.

 

Commander Bodhi Rook, as it turns out, is a man both pleasant on the eyes and in the character. While his comments in the Council Room bring much insight in current war situation, clearly showing his experience and knowledge, he’s also a good companion outside of it, proving to be not only clever, but also a kind person. His advisors quickly take a liking to him, though General Draven stays suspicious — not that Cassian would expect anything else from him. Even Kay doesn’t seem as hostile towards him as he could be.

 

(On some evenings, as they finish discussing politics and Bodhi starts speaking about his adventures, Cassian wonders how a man like him ends up working for the Sith. He’s not sure if he wants to know the answer).

 

Jyn Erso, however, is another story altogether.

 

Unlike her companion, she doesn’t speak much. Instead, she watches, with that cold eyes of her, always on alert, her hand brushing against the hilt of her weapon every now and then. She talks only when adressed or when it’s necessary, though he’s seen her have few private conversation with Bodhi — what about, Cassian has no idea.

 

He decides that it’s better this way. Against his initial judgement, she makes a perfect bodyguard, never leaving him out of her sight but making sure she doesn’t come in contact with him in any way. It’s impersonal and that’s how it should be, Kay says.

 

(There are sleepless nights when he can’t help but think, however. Goes back to watching her farewell with Darth Pran from the window, curious about their relationship, pondering on what kind of Sith Lord awkwardly embraces their apprentice when they say goodbyes. Wonders about the strange necklace that dangles from her neck, so different from her black clothing, asking himself what it might mean when sometimes, she twirls the crystal between her fingers, deep in thought.)

 

Years of playing political games as the prince of Fest might have taught him how to read people, but as far as Jyn Erso goes, Cassian remains clueless.

 

For some reason, this fact irritates him in a way he can’t quite explain.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s on the day of his guardians’ return that for the first time, Cassian catches a brief glimpse of Jyn uncovering herself. He’s just finishing his breakfast, few of his advisors with Kay and Commander Rook among them, discussing the news from Mid Rim, where more of the planets become occupied by the Imperial forces, when his bodyguard strides into the chamber, clad in her usual black leathers, her expression nothing more but a scowl.

 

(Cassian has no idea when or even _if_ she eats at all. He shouldn’t really be concerned with that matter, he tells himself, but it wouldn’t do him any good if his protector drove herself to exhaustion. It’s something that he should probably bring up with the servants assigned to her quarters).

 

She only nods at him in a form of greeting, moving to stand under the wall. Cassian catches Bodhi send her a strange look over his head — one he’d deem reprimanding in any other circumstances — but by the time he turns around, curious to see her reaction, her face is schooled into look of boredom.

 

He bids farewell to his companions and stands up. Jyn follows his steps like a shadow as he exits the room.

 

As soon as the door close, Cassian says, “Your service won’t be required right now.”

 

He glances sideways, just in time to catch her brows furrow. She comes to a halt and so does he.

 

“What do you mean?” Jyn asks, sounding almost offended. Then, as an afterthought, she adds, “Your Highness?”

 

“It means,” he replies, “that my friends are returning from a diplomatic visit on Alderaan and I can assure you they mean me no harm. I assume you’ve been informed about it already.”

 

It’s almost entertaining to watch her scowl deepen, her sharp gaze fixed on him.

 

“I would like to remind you, Your Highness, that it’s in my duty to protect you. I don’t intend on letting you out of the palace _alone_.”

 

“It’s just the courtyard, miss Erso, I’m not planning on venturing into the city, for the Force’s sake.”

 

Most of the days, Cassian doesn’t mind her presence in the shadows from where she watches over him, ready to annihilate any threats, but today is different. He doesn’t want her to be there when he greets Chirrut and Baze, even if they already know of the deal that he struck with the Sith.

 

It’s not Jyn Erso that he’s ashamed of, not per se — it’s what she represents.

 

(His weakness. His lack of qualification. His surrender to the forces he’s afraid of. His inability to save his own planet).

 

“How can you be sure,” she speaks, taking a step towards him and he half expects her to jab him in the chest with her finger, “that your _friends_ weren’t bribed by the Empire? How can you be sure they’re no threat to you?”

 

Her words ignite anger in him but he’s quick to hush it down, not intimidated by the way she violates his personal space.

 

“Because they are much more than just ordinary friends, miss Erso, and I’m sure that’s something you should have known already,” Cassian retorts. He feels satisfaction when for a second, she retreats her gaze.

 

Then, she glares at him with double the fire.

 

“Anyone can betray you, Your Highness,” she says, sounding even colder than usual. Something in the tone of her voice, the stiffness of her expression, gives away that there’s more to the story than she shows. “Even those the closest to you.”

 

“Speaking from experience, are we?” He lets the remark slip before he can stop himself.

 

Her mask cracks. It’s the briefest moment, gone as soon as it appeared, but Cassian catches it just in time, the way her face changes. Shock and pain flash in her eyes, replaced by anger second later as if they were never here.

 

“You have no idea, Your Highness,” she says, schooling her features back into the look of indifference.

 

He finds himself disappointed at the way Jyn manages to slip back into the role of his quiet bodyguard, even though he realizes it’s ridiculous. There’s no reason for him to care about what she meant by her words, as long as she does her job correctly.

 

But the emotion in her eyes — that was real. There’s more to her than being just a pawn of Darth Pran.

 

“I still insist on accompanying you—”

 

“I told you,” Cassian cuts her off, annoyed both at her stubborness and his curiosity when it comes to her, “that it won’t be necessary. You can retreat to your quarters or do whatever else you’d like to, miss Erso.”

 

She seems just as irritated with him as he is himself, though he finds little comfort in that. Especially as her hand drifts towards one of her lightsabers hooked to her belt.

 

“You’re making it very difficult for me to do my job correctly, Your Highness. If something happens to you when I’m not nearby—”

 

“It won’t,” he grits through clenched teeth. “That is the end of discussion, unless you’d like me to contact Lord Pran and tell him his protege isn’t following her orders.”

 

Cassian knows it’s a low blow but he takes satisfaction in the way she flinches upon hearing his words — he clearly struck a nerve.

 

“I see,” she says coldly. “I do wish you a pleasant meeting then, Your Highness.”

 

Without as much as another glance at him, she turns around and strides down the corridor, black cape billowing behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s still upset by the time he steps out in the courtyard, warm cloak secured around his shoulders. It wasn’t Cassian’s intention to vex his bodyguard — who could probably snap his neck with a flick of her wrist if she wanted to and that thought makes him shudder — but sometimes, it’s still hard to keep his temper down for him around Jyn Erso. He realizes how foolish it is of him, given that he’s the reason she’s here, that he’s the one who sought after the Sith’s help, hoping they will be enough to guarantee Fest its freedom and invited them to the palace.

 

At the same time, she’s the embodiment of everything he’s been warned about. The Sith are a force not to be trifled with and even though their agreement is clear — protection and army in exchange for kyber crystals that his planet is rich with — Cassian still has doubts whether it’s all that they’re after, recalling the dangerous glint in Darth Pran’s dark eyes. Kay shares those concerns.

 

His musings are cut short as a transport finally arrives and Cassian can see his guardians, escorted by palace soldiers, step out of the ship. Both relief and nervousness wash over him as he walks towards them, fresh snow crunching under his boots.

 

“Cassian!” Chirrut calls out, a beaming smile on his face, barely visible from the furry collar of his cloak. Next to him, Baze is sporting much lighter clothing and, judging by his grumpy expression, he didn’t miss Fest climate the tiniest bit. “You look good, son.”

 

He lets out a low chuckle. One would think that after having to hear sight jokes for twenty years he’d be already tired of them but somehow, he finds them comforting.

 

“I’m glad to see you both made the journey safely,” he says, moving to share quick embraces with the men.

 

Even though he’s not looking forward to the conversation about the Sith residing in the palace, he can’t deny that he missed their presence. After his family had been killed in an assassination when he was but a child, Baze and Chirrut practically raised him, managing to almost fill out the emptiness left by the deaths of his parents and sisters.

 

He can’t be any more thankful to have them by his side now.

 

“That’s sweet of you, little brother, but can we finally go inside? It’s kriffing cold out there,” Baze grumbles.

 

“Language, dear,” Chirrut reprimands him. “You’re in the presence of royalty.”

 

Cassian shakes his head, corners of his mouth involuntarily turning upwards a little.

 

“Of course. It must be quite the difference after Alderaan.”

 

He leads them inside the castle, chatting about nothing in particular. Cassian intentionally avoids bringing up the subject of the Sith and his guardians don’t push either, focusing on their journey to Alderaan instead. Whereas Baze informs him about political situation, mentioning the moods there are similiar to those on Fest, perhaps a little brighter given they’re not in open conflict with the Empire yet, Chirrut talks about the royal family, clearly fond of the Organas. He’s happy to hear that they’re doing well, as much as one can be in current situation, and even cracks a smile upon hearing that Leia managed to steal shipments right from under the Empire’s nose, tricking them into thinking that she’s the victim; she’s always been the clever one.

 

However, they can’t avoid the subject much longer — as they sit down in one of the resting chambers, heavy silence hangs upon them, disturbed only by the cackling fire and muffled voices of the guards behind the door.

 

Cassian swallows, his eyes darting around the room, not quite sure how to face his companions.

 

“My child,” Chirrut speaks softly, “you’re blaming yourself for things you shouldn’t. There’s no need for you to be scared of us.”

 

On the couch next to him, Baze nods. Cassian allows himself to relax a little, though he remains stiffly by the window, turned towards them only halfway.

 

“How much do you know?” He asks hoarsely.

 

“Only what you’ve included in the message. Though I must say, it doesn’t feel like I expected it to, now that I’m here,” Chirrut says quizically, making Baze groan.

 

“Here he goes again,” he mutters.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Cassian steps away from the window, watching his guardian curiously. He’s wearing a strange expression on his face, his clouded blue eyes even more absent than usual.

 

“The palace’s aura, it’s not much different. I thought, once there’s a Sith Lord in there, it would be much darker but... it’s not. I can sense something unusual but it doesn’t have the darkness I was expecting,” Chirrut explains.

 

“That’s because there’s no Sith Lord here,” Cassian says. He sighs, rubbing his face. “It’s... The deal was for his army and his apprentice. Darth Pran left as soon as everything was in order.”

 

“An apprentice then... how curious. Who are they?”

 

Cassian hesitates before answering; who is Jyn Erso, aside from being his personal bodyguard and Lord Pran’s apprentice? Does he even know anything more than that, anything else besides her combat skills and war experience?

 

He shrugs, hoping to appear nonchalant as he speaks, “Jyn Erso. Pran introduced her as his protege. So far, there haven’t been any problems with her.”

 

A smile tugs at Chirrut’s lips upon hearing his words, one that Cassian’s not sure he likes.

 

“So far, you say. Does that mean you expect some?”

 

“I... That’s not what—”

 

Thankfully, as he struggles to find something to say to explain his poor wording, Baze comes to his rescue. He nudges Chirrut’s leg with his knee, brows furrowed as he glares at his husband, who thankfully can’t see it.

 

“Enough. As long as she’s doing her job correctly, it doesn’t matter,” he says. Cassian sends him a look of grattitude. “How’s the situation?”

 

“Didn’t really change since you left. The Allignment is silent so far, I suppose the news of the Sith army has spread around and they’re working out their next move, or they’re actually scared to press on with their occupation, which I doubt.”

 

“I agree,” Baze replies. “Many can be said about those moof-milkers but they’re certainly no cowards.”

 

“Other than that, we’ve stationed forces across the planet. So far we’re focusing mostly on the bigger cities, since it’s most likely the Allignment will attack one of them. If nothing happens, Commander Rook is planning to place few garnisons in less developed areas.”

 

“And who is Commander Rook?” Chirrut asks, at the same moment as Baze says:

 

“Sounds reasonable.”

 

“He came here with Jyn Erso,” Cassian explains. “Darth Pran assigned him to oversee his army’s movements. I must admit that he’s not quite as bad as I expected and most of his ideas do sound like they should benefit us.” Then, after a short debate in his mind, he adds, “He’s from Jedha, too, so I thought you three might find common subject.”

 

Chirrut nods at his words, a mysterious smile creeping up on his face. Before either of them can say anything, however, there’s a knock on the door.

 

Cassian tenses as he calls out, “Come in.”

 

The door burst open violently and Kay storms inside, followed by grimly looking Councilor Mothma and Commander Rook. Finally, behind them, Jyn Erso sneaks in, her expression unreadable. Her eyes scan the room and stop briefly on Chirrut — frown appears on her face — and then land on Cassian, unusually angry.

 

He hasn’t seen Kay that upset in a long time and he knows it doesn’t bode well.

 

“Forgive me the intrusion,” Kay says, strangely enough speaking in Festian instead of using Basic for the sake of their guests, “but we have some bad news.”

 

“Tell me,” he demands, replying in his mother language as well. His palms start sweating, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

 

“There was a bombing attack in Cádiz, we just got the transmission. We have no information about the casualties yet but the bomb was deployed in the city centre. Rook thinks it’s the Allingment but we don’t have any confirmation for now.”

 

Cassian finds himself nodding absent-mindedly as a shiver runs through his body. So far, Fest has been left untouched by the terrors of galactic war. The Empire — or more like their sadistic branch in the Outer Rim, Pentastar Allignment — mostly focused on lesser planets in different systems, only getting closer to his planet lately. He knew it was inevitable, he wouldn’t make a deal with the Sith if he thought otherwise, for the Force’s sake, but to actually have his home attacked, without even invading it yet?

 

It makes his blood run cold in his veins.

 

Mon Mothma starts to say something but Cassian cuts her off with a raise of his hand, barely stopping it from shaking. He feels the weight of everyone’s gazes focused on him.

 

“Councilor Mothma,” he adresses the woman in Basic, his voice cold, “please inform the rest of the Council that I shall depart for Cádiz immediately. Tell them it’s non-debatable; you are to perform my duties while I’m away.”

 

She doesn’t argue, though shock is clear on her face.

 

“Of course, Your Highness.”

 

“As for everyone else, I’d like you to come with me. I’m giving you till noon to pack anything you deem necessary. Kay, I trust you to secure the transport.”

 

No one disobeys him but Cassian doesn’t think he’d care even if they did.

 

He’s at war and Force help anyone who stands in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was kinda boring, I'm afraid... but we're finally past all introductions and hopefully the political situation makes the tiniest bit of sense already. In EU, Fest was part of Pentastar Allignment but hey, we're screwing canon so much already, who cares, right? 
> 
> We're going to jump into more action now but yep, it's still definitely very much a slowburn. You're in for a long ride! (That being said, I'm not sure how often I'll manage to update but I'll try my best!!! <3)
> 
> P.S. There will be some more characters from OT coming, don't you worry!


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